


Curse me or kiss me

by LiteratiGeek



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteratiGeek/pseuds/LiteratiGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime's an act first think later type of bloke, maybe that wasn't the best course of action when handling matters with Brienne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun had yet to rise fully in the sky as Jaime trudged through the snow around his ankles, past the stables and on towards the grove of trees past the inn. He could hear Brienne in his wake, following after him in boiled leather with a dulled short sword on her shoulder. They had been at this routine for many days now, ever since early one morning Jaime had entrusted her enough to quietly ask if she would spar with him. She responded much as he would have expected from her, with an encouraging smile and an understanding nod.  He had to admit she was a better partner than Ser Payne.

He made it to the clear area among the trees and went about strapping his shield to this arm. He would eventually need a shield and since he couldn’t hold it himself between Brienne and his own mind they were able to devise a system of straps that would keep it held to his arm without slipping. Tyrion would be proud. Brienne unsheathed her dulled sword and tossed the sheath to the ground. She turned the face him as he pulled his own sword from his hip, “Ready?” She asked him.

“On the field men do not prepare the other for an attack.” Jaime told her with a look, for some time now he was suspicious that she was going easy on him. That was the one thing Ser Payne was better at; not minding if Jaime was hurt by the end of the spar. Brienne simply sighed and then advanced.

Jaime blocked her first attack with his shield, gritting his teeth against the impact. He lunged towards her, she was easily able to side step it and respond to it with a slash to his left arm. He blocked with his elbow and turned, advancing again. He knew she was out of range, and yet he felt the impact of the sword on leather. “Stop doing that.” He hissed at her, advancing again. She was constantly doing that, side stepping into the way of his blows. Never enough to do damage to herself, but enough for a glancing blow to stroke his ego.

Why she ever did he never could understand. What good was it to make him believe he was advancing when he wasn’t? For his ego, his ego had been the Kingslayer; the monster she loathed and yet here she was prodding him. The swords kissed as he side stepped and she countered. Some hits drove him to make another, some hits reminded him that now she was truly better. If they were back in the stream he would be no match for her now; he did not know if that angered him or humbled him. His sword skirted against her arm, but he was met by a blow to his side.

He grimaced, his back arching away from the blow as he stepped out and regained himself. She stood up straight, sword at her side as she looked him over.

“Again,” Jaime said simply, she knew now not to question him and simply continue. She lowered into her stance and raised her sword. Jaime advanced with a low thrust, she blocked and countered. Jaime’s jaw was clenched as he blocked another blow with his shield and pushed forward.

Brienne had fought Jaime half a dozen times by now not only their practices in the yard, but the fight in the stream. Brienne could tell there was a change. He was still just as determined as the first fight, but now he was fighting to prove himself. Brienne knew that look well, she wore it often herself.  She attempted an advance, but Jaime responded and she found her feet retreating back from him. She blocked a blow with her arm, thrust for his gut, but was surprised to watch him side step it.

Her eyes were distracting. That was more of an annoyance than her insistence to take a blow for his ego. Why should they be a distraction to him? It would be one thing to look into her eyes to determine her next move, but he found himself more concerned with the color and less with where she was looking. He had seen them dozens of times before. He had seen the same dark blue around the middle, escalating into a lighter shade of sky blue around the rims. He had seen them scared and determined. And, yet, still as they fought her eyes caught his attention and held it. He supposed it was because there was nothing else as appealing to look at about her.

Although, he could not deny the appeal of her figure, in boiled leather she almost had one. The belt at her waist pulled it in discreetly. He assured himself she just wasn’t eating properly; he was admiring malnutrition not a womanly figure. His foot hit an above ground tree root and he stumbled in his advance. He watched her straighten her pose and he quickly lunged at her, taking advantage of her concern. She reacted quickly, too quickly; it wasn’t her normal reaction. It was a true block, not over thought out and half executed for his benefit. His hand stung from the force of her sword on his and he hissed through gritted teeth again.

Her blue eyes widened as he met their gaze again and he regained himself enough to swing his sword. His blows were faster now, desperation combating determination for priority. A year ago, he would have seen that root. A year ago, he would not have been more concerned with the morning light in her eyes. The Kingslayer would have killed her. The Kingslayer should have killed her. A guttural growl escaped him as his sword sung again, the clinging of steel echoed off the trees around them as Brienne blocked the blow. _Instead, the wench had killed the Kingslayer._

Where the second wind came from Brienne did not know, she hadn’t been prepared for it. She was still weak from her trials with Lady Stoneheart and previously they had never attempted to fight at full power; she especially never put her whole strength behind a blow. But now Jaime seemed determined to slice her head off. She blocked which blows she could and barely made an attempt to advance towards him. Her feet retreated until she felt her back slam into the trunk of a tree, and still Jaime persisted.

She blocked another blow, shoved against him but he retaliated quickly and she was force to duck to miss it. “Enough, Jaime!” She shouted at him as she rose back to her full height. “Do you mean to take my head off or are you blinded?”

Jaime tossed his sword to the ground. It had gone on enough. The buzzing in the back of his head every time he looked at her. The constant tug to her eyes. He could train for hours on the daily and be useless in a fight if she was within his eyesight. He cursed her name for how she had been tormenting him. He pulled at the straps holding his shield to his arm and knew he was a liar. He tossed the shield; it bounced off the root Jaime had stumbled over earlier.

“Jaime, say something. What is it that vexes you, this is ridiculous!” She snapped. Jaime looked up at her, within two strides he was in front of her. He pressed his right arm to her chest, pushing her back against the tree. Her eyes were wide again as she stared at him, “What are you…” She never got the words out; Jaime’s mouth preoccupied hers.

He was surprised to find he had to crane his neck back to kiss her; the wench had two inches on him. She tasted of the bacon rations they ate that morning. It was not like kissing Cersei. Cersei was soft and warm, Brienne’s lips were cold from the snow and cracked from the wind. Cersei welcomed his lips and kept them to hers; Brienne had yet to move. He pulled back to look at her, his breathing heavy as he hesitantly pulled his left hand back from her hair. His eyes stayed on her as she opened her eyes again to look at him.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to come from that.

She shoved him roughly and pushed away from the tree, stomping across the yard through the snow back to the inn.


	2. Chapter 2

Under different circumstances he would have let her leave and avoided her until she spoke to him. It was what he normally did with Cersei. However, this time he waited until she had retreated into the inn, grabbed the swords and followed after her. He took the stairs two at a time and entered the room without even a knock. He tossed the swords on the pile of their things and looked up to find her seated on the bed with her knees to her chest. He was reminded of when he found her in the baths at Harrenhall, he could image her seated just as this as a young girl back on Tarth. He supposed old habits were hard to break.

“Why did you do it?” Brienne asked softly, not even granting him a look. She kept her eyes down on the mattress beyond her feet.

Jaime took a deep breath and walked to the bed, leaning down on the edge towards her, “I needed some…I had….” Jaime took a deep breath, “When we were apart I thought of you often, and now that we are together I think of you even more. I…”

“Why do you mock me?” Brienne snapped and moved off the bed to stand up. Jaime rose as well watching her.

“Mock you?” Jaime asked, his brow creasing.

“What slight have I done to you to cause you to mock me this way?” Brienne asked crossing her arms over her chest.

“There has been no slight, I do not mock you!” Jaime insisted.

“You lie!” Brienne proclaimed.

“I do not lie!” Jaime snapped, “I have….been inflicted by these thoughts.” He explained searching for his words as he spoke them. “They plague me in your presence and do not give me rest when you are gone! I tripped on a tree root!” He explained, motioning to the floor at the mentioned root that was not there; as if that mere fact was enough to prove his honesty. “I could not keep my eyes from yours.” He told her in a softer tone.

“Why do you mock me?” Brienne asked softly. Jaime’s posture fell as he let out a breath, stepping closer to her.

“I do not mock you.” Jaime insisted in the same soft tone.

“You must.” Brienne insisted in return.

“Why?” Jaime asked stopping in front of her.

“Because…I look into the mirror and do not believe a word you say. The mirror does not lie, only men who wish for my father’s gold or a soldier’s bet.” Brienne explained her eyes meeting his gaze for the first time.

“And yet I am promised neither and still profess to you that you cloud my thoughts and hold me captive.” Jaime spoke simply.

“I do not believe you.” Brienne said simply seating herself on the edge of the bed, her hands on her knees.

Jaime glared, turning to look at the back of her head. He crossed his arms over his chest and walked until he was in her eyeline again. She did not believe his compliments, and if he were telling the truth he could not come up with a believable compliment for the rest of her appearance. He was attracted more to her than what she looked like; how she made him feel. He clenched his jaw in thought, thinking was never his strong suit. Tyrion was always better at talking his way through life. That was when he realized what he had been doing wrong. She believed compliments from a man to her as a women were lies because they always had been; what had she never been lied to about before?  

“Your stance is perfection.” Jaime spoke simply, catching her attention. “Your foot work is impeccable, even in the retreat you retain your balance which is a feet believe me.” Jaime told her, stepping cautiously towards her.

“Why are you telling me this?” Brienne asked softly.

“You will not accept my compliments as a man, accept them as a knight. You know them to be true.” Jaime told her with a small half smirk of a smile.

Brienne looked at him a moment before looking off to the side, “What else?” She asked.

“You are stronger than me, and quicker. You react faster than any other opponent I’ve faced.” Jaime told her, the smile staying on his lips as he watched her expression soften. “You are precise with a sword, I’d hate to face you with a mace. I heard what you did to the Knight of Flowers.” Jaime continued with a small smirk.

“There were men before him in the melee.” Brienne reminded him, still not looking at him.

“None a match for you,” Jaime replied with a soft smile, “I will leave you now.” He told her turning to take a step to the door.

“Ser Jaime.” Brienne spoke up, causing Jaime to turn around to face her again.

“Lady Brienne.” He replied curiously, a smile still upon his lips. He watched her take a deep breath and shift uncomfortably. She held onto the bed on either side of her, looking down and then up again. She ran her tongue along her lip, seeming to second-guess herself.

“You have permission…” She said softly with another deep breath. “To take that which you seek.” She finished looking to him. He remembered in a far off memory hearing the line in many a tale. A princess would tell a gallant knight who had asked permission the very words Brienne had just spoke to him.

Jaime gave a small smile, and walked back to stand in front of her; he forced himself to slow his pace. She was easier to spook than a doe in the mist. She had not moved from her place on the bed, her hands were gripping the feather bed beneath her so tight that her knuckles were white. “Although, I will be bad at it.” She added softly as he leaned towards her and she leaned back.

“You have been very kind to not speak of our practices in the yard, I will not speak of our practices in the bedroom.” Jaime whispered to her, causing her to grimace, turning her face from him.

“Do not call it that.” She insisted.

“Practices behind closed doors,” Jaime corrected himself, his lips a breath’s length away from hers.

“That is better.” Brienne told him with a nod as he pressed his lips to hers, his left hand moving to hold her neck.

She barely moved, just as the time before, but Jaime held onto the kiss longer than he had before.  _At least her lips are warm this time_ , he thought as he slowly pulled away to look at her. Her eyes slowly opened to look up at him again taking a deep breath. “Do you wish me to leave the room?” He asked with a small smile and she simply gave another nod.

He stood up straight and left the room, closing the door behind him before he leaned against it. He looked down the hall, crossing his arms over his chest with a small smile to himself. Since he was young he had never kissed another woman besides Cersei. This was incredibly different to what he was used to. He knew nothing of her, nothing of her body; each touch was new. Each touch she gave him was new as well, completely new.

He felt the door open behind him and looked over his shoulder. Brienne had opened the door just enough to reveal her face looking back at him. She was biting on her thumbnail when he looked back at her. She pulled her hand away and held it to her chest, “You may come back in the room.” She said simply and then turned, walking back to the bed. Jaime smiled to himself and walked in, closing the door behind him. 


End file.
